《New Dawn》


 Prologue: Prides Fulcrum

    Captain Tiaman Tau was a great fat jolly fellow. Some happy defect in his otherwise aristocratic character led to him being generous and gregarious, and as a consequence, all around beloved by most of those who met him, including his ship''s crew.


    His ship was Pride''s Fulcrum: a contemporary vessel with an Ancient gate core, that allowed her to instantly travel between the stars. She was then a cruiser-fief of the Congress of Andor, but Tau''s family had held the ship''s command for a thousand generations: for longer than there had been Congress even.


    ¡°We were pirates once,¡± he told his dinner guests, with a happy gleam shining through the narrow slits of his drooping eyelids. He had served Gold''s mellow-infused aromatic wine with dinner, and the frothy swizzle had gone to his head, his toes, and everything in between.


    ¡°Surely not,¡± came the expected replies. Tau had over a dozen guests at his table: civilian passengers and senior officers, dressed in finery and smelling of heady perfumes. They were all disbelieving, but entirely convivial. Some of the officers smirked knowingly; they knew this tale from many another dinner, and looked forward to its raunchy end.


    The captain paused to relish in his moment. He loved the prestige and pageantry of his position: the wealth on and around his table, the richness of the food he had served, the deference in the happy, expectant faces of his audience, and even the burnished gold of his epaulets. What a joy it was to be the great man!


    ¡°It''s true. The Taus were ruthless marauders,¡± the captain began his family tale in a gruff, mockingly belligerent tone. Behind him, a sound-powered telephone warbled morosely, and his steward answered it curtly. ¡°We used to sack planets from Heckart to Antiporee. In the year naught six, my great, great- well, many greats, great grandmother-¡±


    ¡°Bridge sir,¡± the steward interrupted the captain.


    Tau excused himself, picked up the receiver, and after listening briefly, ordered: ¡°Sound us to quarters.¡±


    The senior officers were on their feet, napkins on the table and already heading for the hatch when the alarm began to sound. Captain Tau dithered to offer assurances to his civilian guests, urging them to desserts and more wine.  He then made his own exit. Two young women in elegant evening gowns followed him from his suite, wanting to know what was happening.


    ¡°It seems your notions about Evolution were right,¡± he told them. ¡°They have a cruiser at Ar Suft. They''re slinging out of orbit now and moving to intercept us.¡±


    Tau''s two trailing guests received his news with the slightest frowns, but otherwise kept their consternation to themselves.


    The taller of the two was Li Luna: a modest beauty and something of a shameless flirt; she made very little distinction between a genuine sexual advance and passing the time. Her carefree interactions with Pride''s officer cadre had caused some discomfort aboard the ship but she was in no way malicious as she went about breaking hearts. Her kindly ways ensured that she had remained well liked by most, and the resentments she caused were usually redirected towards perceived rivals.


    Truanna Sky was nearly a perfect opposite to the other woman. She was dark where Li was fair, short where she was tall, and she was a frigid rock to Li''s soft warmth. She was almost universally despised for her aggressive, unfiltered way of speaking. She didn''t brag about her inherent superiority exactly, but she didn''t much want any interlocutor to doubt it either. It didn''t help that she really was superior in some ways: being exceptionally intelligent and morally unassailable.


    Though a man of sanguine temperament, Captain Tau felt some resentment to their presence at his heels. In a way, he worked for them. It seemed ludicrous to Tau, but there was no getting around the facts. Their destination was his. Their safety was his responsibility. Their convenience was his pleasure.  Luna had been issued the Warrant of Envoy, and as such, was the agent of the Executive Council of the Congress of Andor. She had all the powers of a unified Council: spoke with their voice, acted with their will, and at an age that might fairly be called tender. There was some politicking involved, Tau knew. The Luna family was one of the ancient rocks around which the Congress had first formed, but still, he marveled that the Council had bestowed its powers upon a baby.


    Not that her powers were without limit. Like the Council, Li Luna''s authority only went so far, and Tau''s orders had been carefully worded so as not to prostrate him before any youthful impulsiveness. He gave some thought to dismissing the two young women before reaching the bridge but resisted the brutish impulse; Luna had a right to be there, and by extension, her friend.


    At the great metal doors, the marine sentries saluted the captain and his officers, and the whole party entered the bridge. Tau barely had time to glance at his tactical table before a junior officer brought him a data slate.


    ¡°Text message from the Evolution cruiser sir,¡± he said.


    ¡°Read it out loud Jemmy,¡± Tau ordered.


    ¡°Sir,¡± the ensign replied officiously before complying. He hesitated, puffed himself up, and read the message in a formal, inhuman tone. ¡°To Congress of Andor cruiser: Ar Suft has been annexed by Evolution in accordance with applicable law and treaty. You are ordered to respect lawful claim, turn back, and gate from system immediately.


    ¡°A lot of gibberish follows sir,¡± the ensign added in a more casual way. ¡°Signals security thinks it was a hacking attempt piggy-backing on the transmission.¡±


    ¡°Of course it was,¡± the captain agreed. ¡°Evolution can''t even say hello without slipping a finger up your ass.¡± It was why his ship used sound-powered telephones in place of wireless communicators, along with a thousand other backwards, antiquated devices. Critical systems had to be physically isolated from outside tampering; there was no beating the cyborgs on their own turf.


    Tau focused his attention on his tactical table: an informational nexus tied into his ship''s most immediately important systems. Various scans were pumping its screen full of information about the star system in which they had just arrived: orbiting bodies, gravity wells, gaseous fields and solar winds -anything and everything that could possibly impact the safety and navigation of his ship. He focused almost exclusively on the readouts of the Evolution cruiser.


    ¡°She''s a big old barky,¡± Tau declared solemnly.


    ¡°Too big for us,¡± his first lieutenant agreed morosely. There was no honor to be had from glorious battle that day: just ignominious retreat.


    Sky, reading their faces and voices, knew exactly what order was about to be issued. ¡°Captain,¡± she said. ¡°You can''t retreat. It''s imperative that we land on that planet.¡±


    ¡°My ship is priceless madam,¡± Tau replied. His congeniality was gone, the speaker had become an avatar of terrible unflinching authority. ¡°Irreplaceable. Even if I didn''t have clear orders to the effect, I would never risk her gate core in an engagement of such unequal force.¡±


    ¡°What will you risk?¡± Sky asked.


    The young woman had had no intention whatsoever of implying that the captain was a coward, but that was the unhappy effect of her words and tone, and there were frowns all around: lips curled in disgust, heads shaking. Li gently put a restraining hand on Sky''s wrist.


    ¡°In fulfilling my duty,¡± Tau said softly, ¡°I will risk everything, up to, but not including my honor, or my ship.¡±


    ¡°Then please sir,¡± Li pleaded, ¡°do everything you possibly can to get us onto that planet.¡±


    ¡°We can''t fight that cruiser,¡± the fifth lieutenant said angrily. ¡°She''ll pound us to scrap before we''ve so much as scratched her armor, and if we try -we might as well just hand them our gate core gift wrapped. I don''t like it any more than you do captain, but retreat is the only option.¡±


    ¡°If your ...mission... is that important we can come back with reinforcements to force the issue,¡± the first lieutenant chimed in.


    Tau had been staring levelly at Luna. Like him, she had been transformed by the occasion. Gone was her vapid girlishness: ditto the twinkle of lusty mischief in her blue eyes. She was cool as ice and regal as a warrior queen. For the first time, he saw her as something more than an empty-headed, likable young slut. Without so much as speaking a word, an entire conversation passed between them.


    ¡°We run,¡± the captain declared. ¡°But first, we''ll endeavor to get our passengers onto the planet. You understand I can''t answer for your safety? The odds are likely you''ll die out there in the next hour.¡±


    The women exchanged a look and nodded to Tau.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    ¡°You have...¡± the captain glanced at his tactical table. ¡°Ten minutes to get who and what you need. Report to the main hangar. Mr. Hoth, Miss Goren, ready number three cutter for a cold launch under fire. Crew and shore party to be made up of volunteers. Make sure everybody understands the risks. Volunteers only Major. They won''t need any reluctant heroes down there.¡±


    ¡°All marines are volunteers sir,¡± Major Goren said dryly.


    Tau hated that kind of talk from the brute, dictatorial major, but there wasn''t much he could do about it. He could only give his orders to Goren; the details of their execution were hers.


    ¡°Please, have them bring civilian clothing,¡± Luna said. ¡°Given the situation we might be better off infiltrating the civilian population rather than arriving like a raiding party.¡±


    ¡°Have them pack a change of civilian clothing,¡± Tau agreed. ¡°And I want to speak to the cutter ensign before they cast off.¡± He then dismissed his sixth lieutenant and marine commander with a jerk of the head.


    ¡°Another message from Evolution sir,¡± Jemmy announced.


    ¡°Read it,¡± the captain barked.


    ¡°Honor treaty and law, or be destroyed,¡± the ensign declared, and his young voice quavered and cracked from excitement.


    ¡°Honor is it? Signal back Jemmy. Tell those cyborg turds ''Honor is all!'' Helm, bring us about, full burn, go right at ''em!¡±


    The captain hadn''t formally taken over the conning of his ship, and his order was repeated by the young woman who retained the duty. The chief hand at the helm: a pragmatic old space dog, didn''t wait for her however, but leering gleefully, pushed and pulled his levers the moment Tau had finished his command. There was a lurch in the stomachs of all on board: a quirk of the inertia inhibitors, which otherwise eliminated any internal indication that the ship had accelerated.


    ¡°Standby all batteries,¡± Hoth continued. ¡°Black mat to primary and secondary guns, starburst to the tertiary. And pass the word for the bosun.¡±


    There was a flurry of frenetic activity as the captain''s orders were carried out: a surge that soon after receded. The relative speed of the vessels, the distance involved, and the range of the various armaments of both, meant that there could be no commencement of any real action for some minutes still to come. Silence, tension, military discipline and excitement all mixed in a strange cocktail of emotions on the bridge.


    All ears were soon vainly trained on the conversation between the captain and bosun at the tactical table. What were they talking about in hushed tones? Why the bosun? He was a glorified janitor, whose dominion encompassed all those things that didn''t fall under the purview of more prestigious, coveted positions, like the Master of Ordnance and Ship''s Engineer: plumbing, ducting, lighting -the dirty and gritty necessities of sustaining life on board. What did the captain want with him? Why was he grinning like a lunatic?


    ¡°I''ll stake my life on her hull sir,¡± the bosun, Slade, was heard to declare emphatically.


    The captain''s steward trespassed closer than anyone else dared, close enough to offer the captain a tot of vapor, to help counteract the swizzle of dinner. He reported his findings to a marine sentry on his way out the door, and his word eagerly spread as rumor around the bridge. ¡°We''re going to clubhaul ''ol girl.¡±


    The rumor was hardly to be believed by the officers, until the captain''s conference with the bosun expanded to include the Engineer and Waymaster. The latter, was a frail old man, with a mind better suited to the graceful mathematical calculations of efficient travel than the perturbation and uncertainties of military maneuvers; he looked justifiably horrified when Tau told him what he planned to do. When prompted however, he revealed that he already had the calculations formulated; he only need to plug in the variables. He had been a young man once, and like most young sailors, he had often fantasized about such outrageous stunts as Pride''s Fulcrum projecting an artificial gravity well, around which to slingshot herself, like daring captains of frigates and corvettes had sometimes been known to do. He and the captain compared figures, and smiled at each other complacently when their math agreed.


    The order was given, and it was received with some nervous giggles, and more than a few frowns of consternation; very few of his officers and hands could keep their composure. Tau was handed a telephone with the words: ¡°number three cutter sir.¡±


    ¡°Who am I speaking to?¡±


    ¡°Ensign Kitteler sir.¡±


    ¡°Thank you for volunteering Kitteler; you honor the ship. How many are going with you?¡±


    ¡°We have a full house: cutter crew and twenty nine passengers, mostly potatoes, plus the Envoys and their party,¡± the ensign said. By potatoes he meant marines: so called for their brown uniforms and for their undeniably being better suited to burial in the ground than carried aboard ships with proper folk. The marines similarly called the ship''s hands blueberries: their uniforms being more colorful, and they were reckoned to be just as soft, tart and harmless.


    ¡°Very good. Listen Kitteler: you''re going to launch dark and quiet. At my command, you''re to immediately roll out of the hangar, and with maneuvering thrusters only, you''ll push off from the ship as hard as you can. But keep your main drive cool. If that Evolution cruiser spots you, you''re going to be in for a bad day.¡±


    ¡°Understood sir,¡± and the doubt and fear in his voice was unmistakable now.


    ¡°We''ll aim you right at the sun, so just drift calm and quiet until the corona masks you, then come online and make for the planet however you think best. We''ll do our best to keep the buggers'' attention. Understood?¡±


    ¡°Understood sir,¡± the young man repeated himself. He was still nervous, but with the captain''s directions complete and understood, his confidence grew a little.


    ¡°Light''s speed Kitteler.¡±


    ¡°Safe return captain.¡±


    Tau slammed the receiver back into its cradle. The ensign''s obvious youth and fear had plucked at his heart''s strings: a paternal kind of distress that had to be channeled into anger if he wasn''t to be seen wringing his hands. Sensing his mood, his first lieutenant, an old battle ax named GeeWan, came to stand beside him. She said nothing, but silently presented herself as a willing receptacle of Tau''s concerns.


    ¡°Stars around us,¡± he sighed, and looked around his bridge. ¡°When did everyone get so young?¡±


    ¡°When we got old.¡±


    Tau laughed from his belly. He had a good laugh: the kind to lift the spirits of anyone who heard it. It was a wonderful source of comfort to everyone on the bridge. ¡°Balls Gee, I think you''re right.¡±


    ¡°I''m always right.¡±


    Tau looked at his tactical table and tried not to worry about the rapidly closing distance: failed.


    ¡°You know Kitteler?¡± he asked her.


    ¡°The ensign? Yes. I served on his mother''s frigate when I was a snotling.¡±


    ¡°He stands to inherit?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Why did Hoth pick him?¡±


    ¡°You don''t approve?¡±


    ¡°Somebody with no prospects should have gone,¡± Tau said firmly. ¡°Somebody who needs the chance to earn a promotion.¡±


    ¡°I''ll talk to Hoth later.¡±


    With that, Tau''s supply of casual banter dried up. He found himself gritting his teeth as the distance closed and the clock counted down. ¡°Master of Ordnance, I want salvos of starburst,¡± he eventually declared. ¡°Rippling fire, keep them squinting.¡±


    ¡°Let''s put on a show,¡± chuckled the Ordnance Officer.


    And so, Pride''s Fulcrum began firing from her tertiary batteries. Small mass accelerators burped forth pyrotechnic rounds at a fraction of the speed of light, and so built a screen of nearly continuous, blinding light, in order to obfuscate their headlong charge.


    ¡°Very pretty,¡± Tau said. ¡°All batteries to fire at will Ordnance Master,¡± and as the old gunnery officer relayed this command to his hundreds of hands at their various gun and torpedo stations, Tau called out: ¡°Scan, have they launched strike craft yet?¡±


    ¡°I don''t think so sir,¡± the ensign replied unhappily; her scopes were just as blinded by the light screen as the enemy was.


    ¡°They''re waiting to see which way we turn,¡± Tau said. Then he turned to Wan and told her softly to send Kitteler on his way. She returned to her captain''s side to report the cutter''s departure, just before they began to feel the first rumblings of return fire: the clatter of shrapnel from fragmenting deflections against the hull, the shuddering of recoil as direct hits were absorbed by Fulcrum''s aegis.


    ¡°Are we ready bosun?¡±


    ¡°Aye, ready sir,¡± Slade told his captain cheerfully.


    ¡°All hands to prepare for loss of gravity. Helm, to submit to the Waymaster''s table. Whenever you''re ready Mr. Ubuntu.¡±


    And so Pride''s Fulcrum began her turn. It was a turn Evolution had been expecting. Whatever the bluster of the Congress captain, Evolution knew that no commander of a gate-capable ship would throw away his priceless vessel on so hopeless a charge, whatever their warcries about honor. Flight was the only logical choice, and within the confines of that choice, Tau had had only two viable options.


    The first had been an immediate reversal of direction and thrust: a long deceleration, combating his forward momentum, followed eventually by re-acceleration and a straight-line flight with the Evolution ship hot on his heels. The second choice had been deemed the most likely from the beginning, even before Tau had seemingly committed to it: a long and drifting arc of space flight called wearing. It put the pursuing vessel at an energy disadvantage. The quarry could continue drifting on their previous axis, even as they began to accelerate on a new heading, while the pursuer had to combat their own momentum in order to close the distance.


    Through a momentary lapse in the light screen, the Evolution cruiser saw the Congress ship dip her helm, and she did likewise, turning wider to cut the smaller ship off in her flight. She launched strike craft as she did so: drones, that while smaller than their parent ship, nevertheless had the firepower to threaten Pride''s Fulcrum and so force her to keep on a straight course. Without such strike craft, the Evolution cruiser would be locked in a losing battle of maneuvers with her quarry, in which she would be forced to constantly turn in wider and wider arcs in order to cut off the other ship''s ever-changing line of retreat.


    Only, Pride''s Fulcrum did not wear. Using the Ancient technology of her gravity generator, she projected a planet-dense gravity field off her starboard bow. It was too short range to muck up the orbits of true planetary bodies in the system, but it was more than enough to pull the ship into a turn far tighter than the Evolution cruiser had expected. Fulcrum banked right, and kept turning until her bow was facing what had been on her left, and now, with the gravity well fizzling into nothing, she was going even faster than she had been before, on the exact opposite heading from what the Evolution cruiser had been expecting.


    Tau stood impassively at his table as his ship groaned all around him. Fulcrum  was a sturdy old girl, but she was old, and he hadn''t been nearly so certain of her holding together as the bosun. As the noise quieted; he saw that their escape was a certainty. The Evolution cutter couldn''t possibly come back around, and its skipper knew it. He ordered a ceasefire of the starburst rounds, so that the Evolution ship could clearly see his vessel''s backside, and properly admire the view. His bridge crew cheered like maniacs at this colorful order.


    Then the scanning station reported that their enemy had given up on pursuit entirely. The cruiser was recalling its strike craft and had begun to leisurely wallow back to her station in orbit. It was apparently oblivious to the presence of the cutter breaking atmosphere on the far side. The information was relayed as a ship-wide announcement, and the whole crew cheered.


    ¡°It may not be a victory in the classical sense,¡± Tau told his first lieutenant, wearing a complacent smile. ¡°But damned if it doesn''t feel just as good.¡±

 Chapter 1

    Ar Suft had once been a bread basket world, but greed and poor economic policies on the part of its ruling consortium had turned it into a desert in recent centuries. The depletion of the planet had led to a sharp decline in commerce with the rest of the Combine of Interests, and its Bureau of Interstellar Commerce and Transit had been compelled to schedule the planet''s removal from their routes: a gradual process of stepping down over the course of a century. Very few people had ever bothered with coming to Ar Suft before, and since the decision had been made to cut it off from the rest of the galaxy, the planet had undergone a mass exodus.


    Ar Suft had never been of much interest to the galaxy at large; it had always been a backwater world. It hardly made the news when it was announced the gate ship would no longer stop there. It was just one more planet nobody had heard of in the core worlds: one more useless appendage rightly cut off from the rest of civilization. Decades later however, a rumor of Ancient technology had spread among these cosmopolitan worlds. The surface of Ar Suft was littered with exotic alloys! There were caches of priceless baubles everywhere! The treasure troves were just waiting to be found; you only had to walk out into the desert to trip over a fortune!


    In the year of Admission, Fifth Century, the gate ship arrived at Ar Suft, true to its schedule, down to the smallest calculable fraction of time. It came with its usual entourage of parasitic consorts: freighters, passenger liners, and space faring barks of all kinds. These ships in turn carried passengers of all varieties: several thousand of which were fortune seekers, scavengers, prospectors and thieves, collectively known as tech hunters.


    As a whole, ships'' crews and passengers were shocked to learn that an Evolution cruiser was orbiting Ar Suft. Most of the captains had never been keen to land on the dying world to begin with, but with Evolution occupying the planet, they were universally averse to leaving their berths aboard the gate ship. Few of their passengers argued the point. Even most of the tech hunters decided that there were better places to seek their fortune. It was a small minority that took Evolution''s presence as confirmation of the rumors. Why else would the cyborgs be there? They were more keen than ever to get down to the surface and make themselves rich.


    Sinsin Cu found himself at the confluence of this nexus: a solitary figure in a churn of thousands of competitive impulses. His own impulse was to get down to Ar Suft. He had been a passenger aboard a family bark for the last six weeks, with no other goal in mind. The captain of his ship had the opposite inclination. She was driven by profit, averse to risk, and lacked the compulsion of principle needed to meet her obligations. They argued vociferously, tediously and unproductively.


    In the meantime, the captain''s daughters, reached out to the other ships being ferried by the carrier. They arranged to transfer their passenger to another ship''s shuttle. The price for this modest service was exorbitant, the dangers of Evolution being well known, and the bolder captain was seeking to gouge his peers for every gram of precious metal he could extort. When the captain''s daughters presented this solution to their mother and passenger, it sparked another confrontation over who should pay the fee: Sinsin, or the woman who had already been paid to perform that very service. Only after her daughters'' shrill interjection did the the feckless captain admit that the obligation was hers.


    When it came time to depart, the captain made no goodbyes, but her daughters gathered around Sinsin at the airlock and crushed his slender body in a series of embraces. They had grown fond of him in the course of their travels. He had been a font of adventurous stories, about worlds they would never visit, and civilizations lost to time. They pressed treats into his hands, wished him well on his adventures and expressed their envy, even as they lamented the dangers of his destination.


    ¡°Be safe,¡± they told him. ¡°Take care.¡±


    ¡°You''re good, worthy creatures,¡± he told them. ¡°Don''t worry about me, I''ll be fine.¡±


    The airlock closed on their long faces.


    The skiff, loaded with passengers, equipment and goods from three different ships, departed the gate ship, and joined the intermittent stream of traffic coming from and going to Ar Suft. They landed at Goodenough: the only remaining city of consequence on the planet. The starport there was an enormous old monolith, dating back to the era of the New Dawn. Once capable of berthing one hundred ships simultaneously, most of the super structure lay derelict and empty. Evolution had cordoned off a small corner for its own use, and another for use of the incoming civilian traffic.


    The skiff landed, its doors opened, and Sinsin was welcomed to Ar Suft by a gust of hot, dusty air. He stepped out, blinking at the glare of a yellow-white sun and feeling somewhat sluggish and short of breath.


    Guards were everywhere. Humanoid drones and their Centurion overseers blocked all possible exits, and they patrolled the landing field and terminal in squads. Evolution strike craft flew patterns above and around the starport. It was an occupation, but the militia of the local prefecture hadn''t been entirely usurped. Local authority took on the brunt of the administrative headache; Evolution only seemed to be there to make sure everyone submitted to inspection and questioning.


    A crowd approached the landed craft as the new arrivals left them, seeking to barter passage off world. Most were emigrants of the typically mundane, apprehensive, poor, and desperate variety. With the arrival of Evolution they might justifiably be called refugees. There were tech hunters mixed in with them: men and women of various races, with a decidedly tough, mercenary and criminal-like bearing. Some of these latter-types accosted the new arrivals as their paths crossed. Heckling, derisive laughter and cold unfriendly stares were exchanged as tech hunters, arriving and leaving, passed one another.


    ¡°Have fun panning this crap ball.¡±


    ¡°No luck chummy?¡±


    ¡°Dug you a latrine for you bozos out Skelter Rock way. Filled it up for you too.¡±


    ¡°Drank all the booze and quit, eh?¡±


    ¡°You might as well just turn around and leave with us.¡±


    ¡°There''s nothing here but First Founding junk.¡±


    ¡°Nah man. It has Evolution too!¡±


    ¡°Sinsin Cu!¡± a voice exclaimed in belligerent wonder. A tall, powerful, human male shouldered his way through the crowd. Grinning, he threw back his yellow cloak with a flourish and stretched his massive arms wide, as if expecting a hug.


    No embrace was likely to occur however. Sinsin''s antennae first went forward, then flat against his skull as he identified the smell of the brown face staring back at him. His hand went to the light caster he kept holstered, high on his left ¡°hip.¡±


    ¡°Deku Tahn,¡± Sinsin said, softly. ¡°It truly is a small galaxy.¡±


    The enormous man laughed heartily: a jovial sound that belied the tension underlying their encounter. He stopped three meters away, planted his hands on his hips, and glowered amiably at Sinsin. ¡°An annual wasted, my crew ready to mutiny, and who comes along but Sinsin Cu? I was just telling the boys, I was sure we were missing something. I can smell it. Evolution and the Andorrans didn''t come here for a rumor, and I''m a piss-faced son of a bitch if you did either. Damned if my nose isn''t always right.¡±


    ¡°What do you want Deku?¡± Sinsin asked testily.


    ¡°I want a mountain of nack and a bed full of tits and ass,¡± Deku growled. His declaration was serious, and his belligerent tone defied any and all opposition. ¡°The same as ever. What do you want? No, no, don''t tell me: the betterment of civilization through understanding of the past. Same old Sinsin, pretending his shit don''t stink. What brings you here Professor?¡±


    Sinsin didn''t answer, but instead performed a cursory search of the starport terminal, looking for Deku''s compatriots. He spotted a likely group of idle rogues, who stared back at him with naked interest. He didn''t recognize any smells from his past encounters with Deku, but that was to be expected. Many kinds of people became tech hunters, and they employed many different methods of procuring Ancient valuables. Some were diggers. Some were merely bandits who stole what others found. Deku was a man of mixed parts: willing to do whatever needed doing, but he had mostly leaned towards the latter type in all the years Sinsin had known him. Such people rarely made friends, and never kept followers for long.


    ¡°It doesn''t matter,¡± Deku said; he knew Sinsin wouldn''t answer. ¡°I know it''s something good or else you wouldn''t be here. Suppose you cut me in. It''ll save us both a whole lot of trouble if we worked together for once.¡±


    ¡°You''re serious!¡± Sinsin exclaimed.


    ¡°Why wouldn''t I be?¡±


    ¡°Because we both know I''m not here to rape this planet in a search for treasure, and even if I was, I couldn''t trust you.¡±


    ¡°Sure, sure. You''re just an academic, I know. But you just might have to you to trust me: between Evolution and the Andorrans, this place is fixing to blow.¡±


    ¡°What about the Andorrans?¡± Sinsin asked cautiously.


    ¡°You haven''t heard?¡± Deku asked Sinsin with a gloating smile. He laughed. ¡°What a rare treat this is! I know something Sinsin Cu doesn''t! Ha ha!


    ¡°Tell you what: token of friendship -I''ll tell you. An Andorran cruiser made a pass at the planet about a week ago. They had a bit of a smash up with Evolution and bolted. The militia thinks they''re going to come back though.¡±


    ¡°That''s all you know? Gossip I could have heard anywhere?¡±


    ¡°Well maybe I can tell you more over dinner. What do you say Professor? Let''s talk over grub. I''ll buy.¡±Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    ¡°I''ll think about it,¡± Sinsin said evasively.


    ¡°What''s to think about? It''s only dinner.¡±


    ¡°Is it?¡±


    Deku''s eyes narrowed. Sinsin hadn''t been friendly from the beginning of this encounter, but now there was an edge to the geel''s buzzing voice.


    ¡°Alright, alright,¡± Deku said slowly. ¡°Come and find me after you get settled then. Adventure will be here when you come to your senses. She''s docked in bay four. I''ll see you around professor.¡±


    This last declaration set the hairs on Sinsin''s antennae on end: tingling with danger sense. There was no mistaking the threat, and there was no doubting the promise of Deku''s words.


    Time dragged by as the inspection line inched forward. Sinsin slowly crept along with it, his interest in this new world smothered completely by the monotony of waiting in that interminable line. He watched the shuttles come and go: the people pass by, and thought that if the sun didn''t broil him, the gravity would smother him, and if all else failed, the boredom would surely finish him through pure depression of the spirit. Though he wasn''t at all hungry, and didn''t even like them, he ate the sweets the spacer girls had given him, just for something to do. Later, when he heard voices raised in anger, he turned to see with shameless interest.


    It was an argument over the suddenly inflated price of passage. There were more people trying to leave than there were spaces for them to occupy, and more and more people were facing the prospect of being marooned. The tech hunters blamed the refugees, the refugees hated the tech hunters regardless, and fists were balled. Then there was a terrified scream. Sinsin saw a gun raised in the air, and hands and arms reaching to restrain its owner: an obelisk of rage and desperation that ended with an accidental discharge.


    The Evolution drones responded instantly. Compelled by their brutal logic, they cauterized the whole area of danger with overwhelming firepower. Squads from all over the terminal converged on the brawl, firing as they came running in. Dozens of people were dead in moments, and the body count rose steadily as the drones kept up a fusillade of indiscriminate fire. They cut down people running in terror, those who wormed about on the ground in fear and agony, and those few who desperately, foolishly fought back. An incoming vessel: a fat old military drop ship, prudently diverted from its final approach, and was itself shot down without warning.


    ¡°I said hold your damned fire!¡± a militia captain was screaming: had been screaming from the start. He strode deliberately towards the closest Evolution Centurion and kicked it in the shin. The cyborg stood impassively by, even though it had just executed half a dozen people for less provocation. ¡°Sling your weapons you psychos! Emergency responders to landing bay four,¡± the captain shouted into his comm-piece. ¡°We''ve had a shooting and a ¨C and a crash. Send all of them. I said all of them! Everyone! And ask the clinic for volunteers. We''re going to need help with search and rescue -and with triage.


    ¡°You! Give me a hand here!¡±


    The militia captain directed this last at Sinsin, who thoughtlessly complied. Together, they ran for the drop ship, and tried to save its crew and passengers from the burning wreckage.


    Hours later, Sinsin found himself answering the questions posed by a different member of the militia. Like him, this guard was still covered in soot, dust and blood from the recent rescue efforts, and he was clearly shaken. He asked his questions somewhat at random as an Evolution drone observed impassively.


    ¡°Where are your bags?¡±


    ¡°Stolen, it would seem.¡± Sinsin had left his duffel and shoulder bag at his place in line, and of course, upon returning to his spot, found that they had not waited for him. Their new owner would surely be disappointed with their contents however. There wasn''t much value in a few changes of clothing and a geel hygiene kit. His few valuables he invariably kept on his person.


    ¡°What''s your business here?¡±


    ¡°I''m an immigrant,¡± Sinsin answered.


    ¡°You know this rock is being cut off from the Combine?¡±


    ¡°That''s'' why I''m here. I thought it would be quiet. Safe.¡±


    ¡°It used to be,¡± the guard said glumly.


    ¡°That was bad what happened,¡± Sinsin said grimly. ¡°But it''s nothing compared to the core worlds. They''re sneaking atomics into cities, and the Codex is threatening to destroy the Stellar Gate of Antaris.¡±


    The guard had nothing to say to that. Though dramatic, Sinsin was describing events that affected strangers far, far away, and they were both covered with the visceral reminders of the lesser, more immediate tragedy. ¡°Where do you come from?¡±


    ¡°Originally or most recently?¡±


    ¡°Both.¡±


    ¡°I was born on Glory Transcendent, but I came here from Tarkis Tarkin.¡±


    ¡°So you''re a tech hunter.¡±


    ¡°No sir,¡± Sinsin said. ¡°It''s illegal to salvage Ancient technology where I come from.¡±


    ¡°It''s illegal everywhere,¡± the guard said distractedly. The focus of his attention shifted from the interview to a dead young woman being carried through on a stretcher. She had been a beauty, but at her passing, her face had relaxed into an expression of a heartbreaking sadness.


    ¡°Damn it Dane cover her up!¡± he shouted at one of the stretcher bearers. ¡°What the hell''s the matter with you?¡±


    The stretcher bearers marched on, as if they hadn''t heard. They probably didn''t. They were civilian volunteers, unused to the horror of violence and its aftermath, and they were in a state of dull shock over the massacre.


    The militia guard wiped at the blood and dust on his brow, still agitated and bereft by the sight of the young woman. He had to be prompted twice before coming back out of his fugue; he did so, silently shedding a tear. ¡°Immigrant. Right. Your profession?¡±


    ¡°I''m a teacher,¡± Sinsin lied in his usual manner: by telling a half-truth.


    ¡°You''re not going to find much work here. There haven''t been any schools for years.¡±


    ¡°Well that won''t last forever,¡± Sinsin said confidently.


    ¡°This planet is dying,¡± the guard said morosely.


    ¡°Nonsense!¡± Sinsin declared emphatically: utterly sincere. ¡°Its circumstances are merely changing, and only temporarily at that. In a thousand years, maybe two, Ar Suft will be the thriving garden world it once was, and the gate ship will come back for its grain and people. It''s happened before you know, on many other worlds.¡±


    The guard didn''t say anything for some time: just stared at Sinsin unhappily. He was too forlorn to think past the present, let alone take comfort from a brighter, possible future, hundreds of years away. ¡°I think we''re done here,¡± he said, looking to the drone, as if for confirmation. The machine didn''t move or utter a sound. ¡°Don''t try to leave the city without a pass from the Prefect''s Office. You''ll be killed.¡±


    ¡°Where do I go to apply for citizenship or a visa?¡±


    ¡°Just get out of here,¡± the guard said peevishly.


    Sinsin was among the last to leave the terminal. The incoming traffic had been halted as a result of the massacre, and most of the other new arrivals had preferred not to involve themselves in its aftermath; they were long gone. Overcome with fatigue, Sinsin stretched out on a crooked old bench, and watched the trickle of the last few people leave the starport terminal; most walked into the city, but a few loitered in the hopes of some kind of taxi or transit service. He dozed like that,waking now and then when he sensed people nearby: people who always backed away upon meeting his gaze.


    Sinsin woke, just before a human hand touched his shoulder. His caster snapped up, and its muzzle chased the retreating form that had been looming over him.


    ¡°Don''t shoot!¡± the form said plaintively, its hands raised.


    Behind the hands was a human face: a young man''s, Sinsin knew, but he could smell human youth more easily than read it in their faces -a wildly hormonal species. Sinsin could also smell that he meant no harm, and that he was merely afraid. He put away his gun. ¡°You shouldn''t sneak up on people,¡± he scolded him.


    ¡°I didn''t sneak. I called to you from over there,¡± the young man pointed to his air car: a seemingly custom-made junker.


    Sinsin scowled at that. He was a light sleeper, and wouldn''t have slept through any such thing as a raised human voice. A small voice in his mind told him he was getting old: that his plates were starting to crack and peel, and that he sometimes slept through his alarms. He repressed the voice with the equivalent of a mental snarl.


    ¡°I thought you might want a ride,¡± the human went on saying. He backed away another step. He wanted to get away from this strange, dangerous geel, but at the same time, he didn''t want to make him mad.


    ¡°A ride to where?¡±


    It wasn''t a question. Sinsin was merely thinking out loud, but of course, the young man turned sheepish and flustered. He stopped in the middle of his third back step.


    ¡°Well, most of the tech hunters are squatting in the old hotels. I could take you to one,¡± he added reluctantly. Having a pistol aimed at his face had made him less than eager to take the geel anywhere. ¡°It shouldn''t be too hard to find a room in good shape.¡±


    Sinsin didn''t answer. He had pulled his personal networking device from a chest pocket and was trying to connect to the local hub. Every planet had one: a network of computers for information sharing. The core worlds were even networked together by a marvel of Ancient technology, (it was what made them a ¡°core¡± world), but backwaters like Ar Suft were only connected to this ¡°galaxy hub¡± for as long as there was a gate ship in-system.


    ¡°Evolution shut down hub access,¡± the young man explained.


    ¡°Well that''s inconvenient,¡± Sinsin buzzed morosely. ¡°I was supposed to meet somebody here.¡±


    ¡°Who?¡±


    Again, Sinsin didn''t answer. He looked back at the terminal entrance, where Evolution had erected an omni camera. No doubt its microphones would hear anything he told the young man.


    ¡°My first inclination is that I should wait here for my friends to come and search for me,¡± he mused out loud. ¡°But I''m concerned that may be a long wait.¡±


    ¡°Are they tech hunters too?¡±


    ¡°I''m not a tech hunter.¡±


    ¡°Oh!¡± the young man exclaimed, surprised. But then he remembered the pistol, and his eyes narrowed doubtfully. ¡°What are you then?¡±


    ¡°I''m a teacher and an immigrant.


    ¡°I would appreciate it if you took me to a hotel,¡± Sinsin continued more assertively. ¡°But not one where there are tech hunters, if possible. I prefer peace and quiet. And privacy. And safety. I''m willing to pay for your services of course,¡± he added, seeing the boy''s continuing apprehension.


    ¡°Well, I suppose I can take you to my aunt''s place,¡± he ventured to suggest. ¡°She runs a hostel for the ice miners. Their shifts come through here every...¡± the young man trailed off. ¡°I uh, I''m not sure how she would feel about you uh... bringing a gun into her place.¡±


    ¡°Suppose you bring it then,¡± Sinsin suggested. He unclipped the holster from his belt and offered it to the young man.


    ¡°Oh no, no,¡± the human said nervously, waving his hands.


    ¡°Just temporarily, until we''re sure your aunt won''t mind me having it on me. How much will your services cost me sir?¡±


    ¡°Oh, for the ride, nothing, not if you''re going to be renting a room,¡± he hesitantly took the pistol. ¡°I don''t really know what my aunt charges, so you''ll have to talk to her. We''ll uh... see if I have to take you somewhere else. We can talk about a fare for me then. Does that sound alright Mr...?¡±


    ¡°That sounds satisfactory. I''m Sinsin Cu.¡±


    ¡°Dallas Aiken.¡±


    ¡°It''s a pleasure to meet you, sir.¡± They shook hands, and the young man was reassured, significantly more at ease. ¡°Please, after you.¡±

 Chapter 2

    ¡°This city is a classic example of First Founding planning and design. It was conceived of as a whole you see. Most cultures build organically, according to the whims and needs of their individuals and organizations in the moment, but the First Founding engineers knew from the start exactly what purpose Goodenough would serve: exactly how many people would live in it, exactly what they would do and why. It is, in effect, a single, enormous structure, rather than many. Marvelous. Simply marvelous, isn''t it?¡±


    ¡°I never really thought about it before,¡± Dallas admitted.


    The young man made a cursory glance out of his window. Goodenough was just a city to him. There was a sharp delineation between the First Founding architecture and what had been changed and built in the following millennia, sure, and the space port was a pearl in the city''s midst: pale, graceful curves surrounded by a shroud of dark, brutish right angles. But he didn''t see any anything to substantiate Sinsin''s wild assertions.


    ¡°Nobody gives the First Founding much credit for their achievements,¡± Sinsin went on. ¡°But they expanded their dominion to three times the size of the New Dawn, and over twenty times the size of the Combine. We don''t even know the names of all the worlds they recolonized in their time.


    ¡°You''re not religious are you?¡± Sinsin asked suddenly. ¡°It just occurred to me that you might consider this heresy.¡±


    ¡°Oh, it doesn''t matter much to me,¡± Dallas said cheerily. ¡°I don''t believe you anyway.¡±


    ¡°You''re a skeptic,¡± Sinsin replied, and something about the posture of his antennae and gyrations of his mandibles suggested a smile to Aiken. Mostly, he could see it in the geel''s eyes. For a man-sized bug, Sinsin had remarkably expressive and human-like eyes.


    ¡°Sorry, it''s just a bit much.¡±


    ¡°Not at all! Skepticism is a good thing: especially in one so young. Most skeptics I know are at least as old as me.¡±


    ¡°I bought a laser sword when I was twelve,¡± Dallas admitted with a wry grin. ¡°Aunt Kay makes sure I won''t ever forget it.¡±


    ¡°It never ceases to amaze me how unscrupulous people can be,¡± Sinsin said sympathetically. ¡°What kind of a monster would peddle phony relics to a child?


    ¡°Aunt Kay: is this the same woman you''re taking me to: my prospective hostess?¡±


    ¡°Yep yep! She''s not really my aunt, but she''s the only family I''ve got.¡±


    ¡°You''re an orphan I take it?¡±


    ¡°Most people my age are,¡± Dallas said, shrugging off the geel''s sympathetic tone. ¡°My folks signed on with a labor syndicate to get off world when I was just a baby. I hear they got half a billion indentures from Ar Suft before word got back that they were all being sent to harvest ambrosia.¡±


    ¡°Oh no.¡±


    Again, Dallas shrugged at Sinsin''s sympathy. ¡°I hardly knew them.¡±


    ¡°It''s dangerous work, but they may beat the odds.¡±


    ¡°It was fifteen years ago.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡±


    ¡°It does kinda look like a big black face eating the starport,¡± Dallas said of the city, just to change the subject.


    ¡°Indeed! Later, if you''re interested, I can show you some images of other First Founding cities on other worlds. They always built around the remnants of the Ancients or New Dawn, and each city is made up of at least fifteen repeating modules I''ve identified. Take this highrise for example. It''s a standard residence. They built thousands like them all over the galaxy. Later inhabitants have a tendency to alter the interiors, but at their core, they''re really all the same. You can''t ever get lost in any of them once you know your way around one. Is that where we''re going?¡±


    Dallas grunted in the affirmative.


    The highrise was a centuries-old obelisk of unwavering symmetry: a monument to practical uniformity. They spiraled up and around it, the air car struggling to climb the higher it got. Eventually, they crested the edge of the roof, more than a kilometer above the ground, and Dallas gently touched them down in the midst of greenhouses, wind traps and solar collectors: new additions to the venerable old monolith.


    Sinsin waited awkwardly in the foyer of a penthouse suite: the current domicile of one Aunt Kay Arrez. She was a brutish little woman: manly in her jaw, shoulders and narrow little hips, but her bosom was enormously feminine. She stood rigidly erect and swollen with indignant air as she listened to her ''nephew'' explain why he saw fit to bring a tech hunter into her home. She received his assurances that Sinsin was ''alright'' and took his holstered pistol with a dubious expression.


    ¡°How long would you be wanting to stay?¡± she asked, after the introductions had been made.


    ¡°That depends on what you charge madame.¡±


    ¡°A gram a day is usual, but if you''re staying longer, I''ll charge less. Dallas says you''re looking to immigrate.¡±


    ¡°Grams? Grams of what?¡± Sinsin asked. ¡°Why not credits?¡±


    Aunt Kay laughed dryly. ¡°There hasn''t been a banking service on this planet in thirty years. Even before Evolution shut down the hub, we were dealing in platinum. But I''m not opposed to a little bartering.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± Sinsin said.


    Aunt Kay was a merciless negotiator. After a brief bout of aggressive haggling, she extorted Sinsin for an appleite gem, worth the equivalent of five hundred grams of platinum on the global Exchange, the last he he checked. ¡°We''ll call it a year''s rent and security deposit for now,¡± she said. ¡°We can talk about the balance when you move out.¡± Having secured him as a tenant however, her demeanor changed entirely. He was now her guest, her responsibility and in a kindly, matriarchal way that Sinsin instinctively found comforting, her property. It was with an air of indifferent acceptance that she returned his pistol, with a request that it be left out of sight in his room whenever he was in. She made direct, pragmatic inquiries as to his diet and other needs, and she indicated her willingness to provide for his comfort: even to help replace his stolen possessions. Sinsin''s hygiene kit was easily substituted with alternatives found around her home, and a short while after being shown to it, he emerged from his shower to find his dirty clothing gone, and a clean robe left in their place. There was also a buffing wheel, and a wax suitable for his carapace. So it was that when he joined Aunt Kay and Dallas for coffee, a bit of the old nacreous glimmer shined through the veneer of age clouding his exterior.


    ¡°Your coffee is very good,¡± he buzzed contentedly.


    ¡°I grow it myself.¡±


    ¡°I saw the plants as we landed. It''s quite the garden plot you have on the roof. You''re a remarkably industrious woman.¡±


    ¡°She has help,¡± Dallas said with a smirk.


    ¡°Does she?¡± Aunt Kay asked with a playful-yet-serious look. ¡°Have you fixed those condensers then?¡±


    ¡°I would have, but I was annoying you, so you sent me to the starport to make a buck.¡±


    Aunt Kay grunted: two contemptuous notes emanating from somewhere between her throat and breast.


    ¡°There are a hundred other people in the building,¡± Dallas told Sinsin as he rose from his chair. ¡°Everybody chips in with the garden work.¡±


    Aunt Kay smacked the young man''s rump as he walked by. Sinsin''s antennae jerked at the sharp sound: an instinctual alarm and aversion to violence, though of course, consciously, he knew the smack was just one of the many strange ways humans could show affection.


    ¡°People say the planet is dying,¡± Aunt Kay him. ¡°But life goes on.¡±


    ¡°Indeed,¡± Sinsin said happily. ¡°I was trying to tell a young man of the militia as much this morning, but he wasn''t disposed to think positively after what happened.¡±


    ¡°I heard about that,¡± Aunt Kay replied. ¡°Did many people die?¡±


    ¡°A few dozen that I saw with my own eyes,¡± Sinsin said gravely. ¡°I''m sure there were more however.¡±


    ¡°Damned Evolution,¡± she sighed.


    ¡°How long have they been here?¡±


    ¡°Oh, a few months now I suppose.¡±


    ¡°Has there been much violence?¡±


    ¡°Only a little at first. A gang of toughs had staked out the space port as their turf and they were extorting everyone for its use. Most everybody was happy with Evolution when they cleaned them out. Things were quiet after that; they mostly kept to themselves, but then the Andorrans showed up, and kicked the geel''s nest. Oh. Sorry.¡±


    ¡°Not at all,¡± Sinsin said, truly indifferent to the expression and its use. ¡°What about the Andorrans though? What did they do?¡±


    ¡°Not much from what I hear. They fired a few shots and ran away, but Evolution is certain they infiltrated the city or some such. They flooded the hub with notifications and bounty offers for a few days, before they shut it down completely. Since then, they''ve only been talking to the Prefect.¡±


    ¡°I wasn''t expecting to find the planet occupied by them.¡±


    ¡°Well we weren''t expecting to be occupied either! It''s all this nonsense about Ancient technology. I don''t know who started the rumor, but if I could get my hands on them...¡±


    ¡°You don''t believe there''s any truth to it then?¡±


    ¡°None at all. I''ve lived here my whole life, and I''ve never heard of anyone finding anything. There''s no Gate here, no World Machine, no Super Factory, nothing to suggest the Ancients ever bothered with Ar Suft at all.¡±


    ¡°The Truth tells us the Ancients brought their Light to the furthest corners of the galaxy,¡± Sinsin hazarded to remark: curious to learn if his landlady was devout.


    ¡°Everybody knows they skipped places on the way,¡± Aunt Kay replied, informing Sinsin that, believer or not, she was rational.


    They chatted amiably over their coffee: one refill was followed by a second, and then a pleasant chime announced the drying of Sinsin''s clothing, and they took their conversation to the roof. There, Aunt Kay showed him around ''her'' greenhouses, walking him through the methodology of the hydroponics and aeroponics. She was assisted in this by Dallas, who periodically stuck his head up from the plumbing as he worked on it.


    A group of people interrupted this tour, and presented themselves to Aunt Kay as supplicants: a delegation of distraught faces, who had lost loved ones in the massacre at the spaceport. They told her action had to be taken; something must be done about Evolution. The occupation was getting worse.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    ¡°Just like I said it would,¡± an older man said belligerently: a pessimist and doomsayer who took no satisfaction in being proven right. His daughter, a volunteer with the militia, had been killed.


    Aunt Kay was soothing: supremely diplomatic. She told them that funerals came first, and afterwards a memorial. ¡°We''ll talk about it then,¡± she said firmly. ¡°I''m sorry,¡± she told Sinsin after they had gone. ¡°Where were we?¡±


    ¡°You were explaining the nutrient mix in the misters, but Dallas finished for you. May I ask why those people came to you? Are you an authority in this city?¡±


    ¡°Oh, nothing like that,¡± Aunt Kay said with a smile.


    ¡°They almost made her mayor a few months back,¡± Dallas said.


    ¡°Oh?¡±


    ¡°I just did a little organizing,¡± she said with false modesty and much satisfaction. ¡°There isn''t much of the old administration left any more, but there are thousands of people who have decided to stay, and there are going to be thousands more who never managed to leave. I''ve just helped make sure we all have what we need -and will need going forward.¡±


    ¡°Most everybody has their own farm plot these days, thanks to her,¡± Dallas added.


    ¡°So long as the sun keeps shining we''ll be alright,¡± Aunt Kay said cheerily. ¡°At least until we drink up all the water.¡±


    ¡°Dallas mentioned that there was ice mining being done, I assume at the planet''s magnetic poles. How long will it last?¡±


    ¡°No one knows for sure. The Combine did a survey before they pulled us from the route; they said three hundred years at the time, but the population has dropped to almost nothing since.¡±


    ¡°I wouldn''t trust the veracity of that survey either,¡± Sinsin said. ¡°The Assayers are notoriously inept. Like most officials, their posts are little more than a hobby to them: a way for aristocrats to travel at the taxpayer''s expense. They concluded their trip months ahead of schedule and published almost nothing as to their findings.¡±


    ¡°I guess they were in a hurry to visit someplace nicer,¡± Dallas said morosely.


    Aunt Kay was briefly offended for her planet, but she soon got over it. She took Sinsin''s arm; pulling him from one side of the roof to the other, she pointed out the city''s landmarks.


    ¡°That''s the Promenade: the marketplace ¨C a hundred stores and stalls selling anything you could need,¡± she said with a touch of pride. She didn''t say so directly, but Sinsin understood this was one of her feats of ''organizing'' and so he did his best to compliment the squat, unattractive building.


    ¡°And that''s Darkside. The Karteret Syndicate was renovating those hotels, turning them into casinos and brothels, when the Combine decided to cut us off. They''ve mostly pulled out now but they''re going to wait until the last minute with Darkside: to try and recoup as much of their losses as they can I suppose.


    ¡°And that''s the Old Palace. The Monet family is long gone though. It''s just the Prefect and the militia there now. Now what are they up to?¡±


    Sinsin sighted along Aunt Kay''s finger, which pointed to a First Founding pyramid-like structure. It was the most easily recognized of the old empire''s many standardized designs, which he called the Government House. Its singular shape, built-in defenses and all around opulence made it very much the thing for contemporary local authorities to appropriate it for their use. Most commonly, it served as the personal palace for despots and potentates, but it could sometimes be a parliamentary building.


    A single air car had risen up from the Old Palace and came climbing straight towards them. It was a baroque, beautiful old machine, dating back to the New Dawn. Its body panels were astral obsidian, and its four multi-directional thrusters were plated in pearl. Unlike Dallas''s junker, it came swooping gracefully down to the tune of a pleasant low whine.


    Upon touching down, the driver''s door opened, and an Evolution centurion emerged. Its armored, humanoid frame was dressed up in a khaki militia uniform, replete with one of their pale blue berets. It opened the rear passenger door with a white-gloved hand, and the Prefect himself emerged: a handsome, charming man in the prime of his middle age. He wore a painstakingly starched uniform. His smile was shockingly white. He acknowledged Dallas by raising the gold head of his swagger cane and lightly touching it to his beret. Then he came grinning up to Aunt Kay and her guest.


    ¡°Kay,¡± he said, oozing charm. His free hand caressed its way around her back, and he pulled her in close for a full kiss on the lips.


    Kay wasn''t pleased, nor receptive, but she offered no more resistance than a cold stiffness in the face of this soft, warm onslaught.


    ¡°Professor Cu! What a pleasant surprise! I came hoping to ask after your whereabouts and here you are! This is most fortunate!¡±


    ¡°I''m afraid you have the better of me sir,¡± Sinsin said stiffly.


    ¡°This is General Edward Flea,¡± Kay introduced him somberly. ¡°The commander of the militia and Prefect of Goodenough. You might say he rules the planet these days.¡±


    ¡°More or less,¡± Flea said and his startling blue eyes twinkled with delight at some secret mischief in the root of these words.


    Sinsin glanced pointedly at the Evolution chauffeur. Flea looked from the cyborg, and back to Sinsin. His smile widened and he raised an eyebrow in unabashed acknowledgment of the point. The centurion wasn''t his servant or bodyguard, but a spy, and should the Prefect ever become overtly hostile to Evolution, the cyborg would doubtless prove to be his assassin as well. At that simple gesture: the raising of an eyebrow, Sinsin was instantly disposed to like Flea. It took no small amount of intellect and inner strength for a man of power and authority to own such an unpleasant truth: that he wasn''t his own master.


    ¡°Your reputation precedes you sir,¡± Flea went on. ¡°Ar Suft is fortunate to have such a famed academic as her guest.¡±


    ¡°You''re too kind.¡±


    ¡°Not at all, Not at all.


    ¡°I''m told he''s quite the philosopher,¡± Flea said as a conspiratorial aside to Kay. She retreated a step, freeing herself from the hand that gently tried to pin her against his hip. ¡°Not that I know anything about xenoarchaeology myself. I never even heard the word before this morning. Taking bribes, gambling and making love is all I know.¡±


    Flea laughed, and he was so perfectly amiable that Sinsin found his mandibles twitching: ready and willing to softly tap out his own version of a laugh against his mouth parts. The urge never fully materialized however. The silent, watchful centurion by the car was an oppressive presence, and besides, he smelled Aunt Kay''s growing irritability.


    ¡°So you''re staying with Kay. How very convenient for me. You were seen leaving the starport with Dallas of course, but I only came expecting to ask after your whereabouts. I never thought to find you here still! I admit I''m jealous. Kay is a pleasant companion, isn''t she?¡±


    ¡°Certainly,¡± Sinsin agreed, but cautiously. He didn''t want to be the one to trigger her angry outburst.


    ¡°She was a famous chef you know, before the collapse. She cooked for the Monet family every Ascension day. You have to make him your Dom Som cake while he''s here.¡±


    ¡°Honey is hard to come by these days,¡± Aunt Kay replied.


    ¡°True, true. Ar Suft was famous for its bees and honey you know, before the long drought killed the last of them off.¡±


    ¡°I''ve had the good fortune of sipping a Tallasee Mead,¡± Sinsin said conversationally. ¡°I understand it''s a local swizzle made from honey.¡±


    ¡°It used to be,¡± Aunt Kay said bitterly.


    ¡°The Tallasee Guild is based on Wei Rocco these days, and has been for the better part of a century,¡± Flea explained. ¡°Anyway, forgive me for turning the conversation to business professor, but Evolution would very much like to have a word with you. They''ve designated a Spokesman: Par Com Sar he calls himself. He''s in residence at my office. Can we can schedule an interview for tomorrow morning? Will nine o''clock suit you?¡±


    ¡°What does Evolution want with me?¡±


    ¡°Oh, it''s nothing serious! You''re not in trouble or anything. I know the prospect of an interview with Evolution can be alarming but I give you my word in regards to your freedom, comfort and safety. And we can discuss the matter of your immigration as well. It''s something of an interesting question you know. The status of our government, code of laws and such is all rather... nebulous these days, so we''ll have to botch up the paperwork as best we can.


    ¡°That is, if you''re serious about immigrating to our planet.¡± Flea''s smile turned smarmy, and his eyes wandered the heavens by way of letting Sinsin know he was no more fooled by the lie than his guard at the starport had been.


    ¡°Of course I am. Or I was. But my decision to come here was made before I knew about Evolution. It''s very oppressing to have your every action watched, recorded and scrutinized. I''m not so very certain I wish to stay now.¡±


    ¡°Of course I understand,¡± Flea replied. ¡°I would feel the same way. The things we get up to when the lights go out, eh Professor?¡± Flea elbowed the sexless geel and winked at him lasciviously, then laughed again. ¡°We''d be fortunate to have you, so we really must see to getting you all the rights and protections of citizenship.


    ¡°Well, it''s just about time for my afternoon coffee,¡± Flea said more sedately. He waited momentarily for Aunt Kay to take the hint and make the offer of hospitality, but not long enough to embarrass himself. He saluted Dallas once more as he returned to his car. ¡°Until tomorrow Professor Cu,¡± he said, as the centurion opened his door. ¡°Nine o''clock!¡±


    Sinsin raised his hand in farewell. After Flea''s car had begun its ascent, it returned to its usual place: clasped behind his back, and his antennae and mandibles gyrated with consternation.


    Dallas came to stand with the others, and they watched in a huddle as the air car headed, not for the Old Palace, but Darkside.


    ¡°Pig,¡± Aunt Kay muttered.


    ¡°What is xeno...archology?¡± Dallas asked.


    ¡°Xenoarchaeology,¡± Sinsin corrected him. ¡°Strictly speaking, its the study of alien cultures through the material objects they left behind. My area of focus is the New Dawn, and by extension, the First Founding and Ancients.¡±


    ¡°So you are a tech hunter,¡± Aunt Kay said with a glare.


    Sinsin sighed. ¡°I''m no more a tech hunter than a geologist is a miner. But if you insist on applying that label, I won''t quibble further.¡±


    ¡°Well, it''s easier to say than xenoarchaeloger,¡± Dallas said with a conciliatory smile. He cautiously put a hand on the woman''s shoulder. ¡°Come on Aunt Kay. Don''t make that face. He''s not like the others. You can see that.¡±


    Aunt Kay remained disgruntled. She didn''t like that Flea had come calling, and she disliked the scrutiny of Evolution even less. It made her skin crawl to think of dark optics pointed at her and her building, and she wanted nothing more than to evict Sinsin then and there. It was the warm glow of the appleite between her breasts that persuaded her to let him stay. If she kicked Sinsin out, she would have to return his bauble, and that she did not want to do.


    Her animosity was fully evaporated by dinner. As they ate a desert of pudding and jellied currants, Aunt Kay made the remark: ¡°You must be well-traveled then Professor.¡±


    Sinsin modestly admitted the truth of this. He produced a small device, and set it down on the table before them. He asked for the lights to be dimmed, and with the press of a few buttons, called up a holographic model of the galaxy. He patiently waited for their wonderment to quiet, and then he carefully pointed around the projector, to a white speck of light clad in a blue halo.


    ¡°I started here, at Glory Transcendent, where I was born. It was intended for me to be a diplomat, so I spent my youth studying human culture. There were more candidates for embassy work than were needed however, so by and by, the focus of my study shifted to archaeology. My first scientific expedition was with the Matriarch''s College of Winterhome. It brought me here, to Macintosh.¡±


    And so began the model''s animation. Dot by dot, segment by segment, a glowing line began to draw the history of Sinsin''s life and journey across the cosmos. The line was not straight, but crooked, bending and flexing. The model''s animation didn''t track just Sinsin''s movements, but those of all the stars and worlds he had visited as well.


    An Evolution observer watched and listened to Sinsin as raptly as the humans.


    The cyborg had been air dropped just after dusk, and it came drifting down in ghostly silence: like a dark and sinister leaf, floating on the wind. Its metal frame was encased in a soft stealth shell, and so it landed on the edge of the roof as noiselessly as it had descended. Its thin insect wings lost their rigidity, and some unseen mechanism caused them to wrap around its slender limbs and trunk. In a blink, it had transformed into a shape easily mistaken for a tall, slender man in the dark: at least until it went over the side. It looked more like a spider then, climbing hand-over-hand, head-first down the side of the highrise, without any need for handholds or ledges.


    It was from the exterior of the penthouse window that the cyborg watched Sinsin and the humans eat their meal. A microphone built into its palm was pressed against the glass, and so it heard every word as Sinsin told the others about his adventures. A faint remnant of its former humanity caused it to feel something like a pang of envy.


    ¡°This observer''s form is not what I was promised!¡±


    The Evolution algorithm didn''t react to the anger. Anger was a useful tool for channeling a human mind into acts of aggression, and so it left the observer to its resentment.


    ¡°Where is the adventure I was promised? Where is the freedom? I was told I was special, that I would conquer the universe, but I''m just another tool to you! I''m just a machine to be used!¡±


    When the observer began to feel trapped, and the anger turned to panic, the algorithm finally triggered the injectors in its brain carriage. Satiated and calmed by the soothing drug, the observer reverted to its machine-like state of normalcy, and focused its thoughts on the task at hand.


    The conversation was ending. It was time for bed. Aunt Kay rose from the table, followed by the others. They would be asleep soon. The observer kept its microphone planted against the glass just in case their hygiene rituals were interrupted by a revelation.


    ¡°I have to get that device,¡± a voice said in the observer''s mind: a thought that it mistook for its own. In an instant, the cyborg had formulated a plan of action: a return to the roof and infiltration of the penthouse through the elevators. In essence, it would walk in like it lived there.


    ¡°Going through the glass would be quicker,¡± the Evolution algorithm argued.


    ¡°The pressure change in the interior would be heard as wind,¡± the cyborg replied, as if to itself. ¡°Likelihood of detection and confrontation increases. Better to go the long way.¡±


    Evolution did the math, and decided that the human brain had calculated correctly. It returned to a state of dormancy in the observer''s mind: a silent passenger and witness to all that the observer sensed and thought.


    Neither the observer, nor Evolution, detected what killed it. The laser that sliced through the cyborg''s brain carriage was well-aimed. Automated subsystems reported the damage and loss of the brain of course, but it took time for the information to be relayed and for Evolution to respond. A second pulse of light sliced into the observer''s frame and ruptured its power cell before the algorithm could take direct control of the machine. The laser beam was revealed then: to the limits of the cloud of caustic gases and fine metal particles it created, but Evolution never saw it. Without the power cell, the observer''s optics were blind, and the capacitors in its circuitry lasted only long enough to complete a second damage report. The observer lost its grip, and it looked more human than ever as it fell, limp and lifeless, from the highrise.

 Chapter 3

    The Prefect was late in coming to his office that morning: a singular occurrence, and one calculated to be deliberately galling. It worked. Par Com Sar was furious.


    ¡°General Flea,¡± the cyborg boomed at him. The spokesman''s volume was always too high, but being angry, the volume had been cranked up to cause pain and discomfort. Flea and his receptionist didn''t just hear the deep, electronic voice, they felt it in their breasts. ¡°What is the meaning of this? Why have you not been available? Why have you ignored our communications?¡±


    The Spokesman for Evolution was the only cyborg with a face. Its visage was glossy white smoothness. The features might have been considered beautiful individually on any number of real faces, but upon being combined together in perfect artificial symmetry, the result was exaggerated and a little grotesque: reminiscent of cosmetic surgery gone wrong. The lifeless, compound optics in place of the eyes were horrifying: especially when Sar sneered, as it was wont to do. Some fault in the underlying emotive mechanisms resulted in repetitive twitch of its upper lip.


    It had been a shock to Flea, to see firsthand how much humanity lingered in the cyborg. According to Sar, its personal ''evolution'' had stripped away the corrupting emotions and animal instincts that had impaired humanity for all of the race''s long, sordid history: leaving nothing behind but logic and precision calculation. It was nevertheless arrogant, conceited, brash and impulsive, which Flea found strangest of all. Sar was a remarkably inept diplomat.


    ¡°Oh, I didn''t ignore them, good fellow,¡± Flea replied cheerily. ¡°I read every single one. Good morning Ali. Did Ellenstein write up her report? I''ll have it please.¡±


    ¡°Yes sir,¡± said the handsome, demure young man behind the desk. He passed Flea a data slate and blanched at the cyborg''s following outburst.


    ¡°You read my messages and chose not to respond?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I responded. I sent Captain Ellenstein with a detail. Shall we read her report together? Thank you Ali, coffee please.¡±


    Flea brushed past the reception desk and entered his office, clearing his throat. ¡°''At 22:11, per Prefect''s orders, I responded to the scene of the incident. Found Evolution drones and centurions present in force. Attempted to ascertain the cause of the disturbance and was forbidden access to the scene. After some minutes, I was commanded,'' take note of that word my friend: commanded. ''I was commanded by a centurion to employ my troops in going door to door, rounding up suspects. Centurion refused to explain what constituted a suspect or what crime individuals were suspected of committing. After a delay, it was clarified that I was expected to arrest everyone in a one kilometer radius of where I stood. I refused. The centurion threatened violence. A standoff ensued, in the course of which I felt obligated to call Major Odo for reinforcements, fearing for my safety, the safety of my troops, and the safety of the citizens of Goodenough.''


    ¡°Shall I continue?¡±


    ¡°You know that''s not necessary. You know every syllable you''ve uttered has been a waste of time. You do this to irritate me.¡±


    ¡°''Per Prefect''s orders, we retreated to a distance no less than two hundred meters and established a cordon,''¡± Flea finished reading. ¡°''We waited, and observed Evolution forces disperse starting at -4:29 hours. At 05:35 hours, per Prefect''s orders, all militia forces returned to barracks.''


    ¡°You see my friend? I did respond -at great expense to my sleep and general comfort, I might add. Now, please feel free to tell me what all the fuss was about.¡±


    ¡°How did you communicate your orders?¡± Sar demanded, after a brief consultation with Evolution. ¡°There is no record of messages being relayed between you and Captain Ellenstein.¡±


    ¡°You''re eavesdropping on militia communiques?¡± Flea asked with feigned shock and outrage.


    ¡°Don''t be a flop,¡± Sar responded. ¡°Tell me how you relayed those messages.¡±


    ¡°Come now. You can''t seriously expect me to reveal a secret military communications network.¡±


    ¡°Keeping this secret can be considered an act of aggression.¡±


    Flea turned cold for a moment, and spared the cyborg a look of icy disdain as he lit a slender cigar. The puff of soothing smoke and the hot shot of coffee that followed restored his sunny disposition however.


    ¡°Commanding my officers to round up people is an act of aggression, friend Sar. I made it clear to you at the onset of your ...visitation... that the militia would neither aid, nor tolerate any such actions.¡±


    ¡°More aggression,¡± Sar sneered. ¡°It''s foolish of you to refuse. We could wipe out your militia with ease, and and all life on this planet if we chose.¡±


    ¡°I don''t doubt it,¡± Flea replied, more cheerful than ever. ¡°But you don''t have time to fight a counter-insurgency or conduct a pogrom, as we both know very well. The Andorrans have put you under a time constraint.¡±


    ¡°The might of Evolution is factors greater than the Congress of Andor.¡±


    ¡°Maybe, but you''re just one cruiser all by itself here, and you''re not getting any reinforcements.¡±


    ¡°Aren''t we?¡± Sar challenged.


    ¡°If you were, you wouldn''t have stripped the space port garrison after the Andorrans showed up. You''ve been combing the desert like there''s no tomorrow. And there won''t be a tomorrow for you, if the Andorrans come charging back too fast. Your cruiser will leave you behind just as easily as you murdered all those people at the space port. How does my math figure? Or do you suppose Evolution values its appendages on the planet as much as its gate ship?¡±


    Flea felt a rush of elation to see the cyborg fidget: fidget! In discomfort! ¡°Come Sar. Let''s stop with the posturing already. My militia may be a joke to you, but you''re in no mood to laugh. Now, tell me what was so important that you were almost willing to go to war last night.¡±


    ¡°We lost one of our constituents,¡± Sar admitted, after another consultation with Evolution.


    ¡°A constituent? Not a drone? What was it doing away from the star port and the Palace?¡±


    ¡°It was sent to spy on Sinsin Cu.¡±


    ¡°We agreed you wouldn''t deploy observers in the city,¡± Flea said sternly.


    ¡°The circumstances are extenuating. Cu is implicated as an accomplice to the Andorrans and he''s not a citizen of Ar Suft.¡±


    ¡°Surely you don''t think he killed your observer?¡±


    ¡°The geel''s actions are accounted for. It couldn''t have been him. The attack originated from beyond detection range. A laser was used.¡±


    ¡°Your Andorran infiltrators,¡± Flea said.


    ¡°Or your militia,¡± Sar suggested.


    Flea laughed briefly. ¡°A laser is a little fancy for us. We must make do with kinetics. Some of my officers carry personal light casters and other such family heirlooms, but nothing so exotic as a man-portable laser.¡±


    Sar was more irritated than ever to hear this. It was deeply mistrustful of Flea, and had suspected the militia''s involvement from the moment it had been informed of the observer''s loss. When Flea had refused to respond to its communiques and an entire battalion of militia had been mobilized, seemingly against Evolution, Sar had been certain that Flea had been flipped by the Andorrans. Yet the Prefect had just aced every observable metric in the lie-detection suite. The militia had no lasers in its arsenal, and Flea had spoken with genuine conviction when he had named the Andorran infiltrators as the likely culprits.


    ¡°Now, tell me why you think Sinsin Cu is in league with the Andorrans.¡±


    Sinsin Cu wasn''t in league with the Andorrans. He tried to explain this several times in the course of his interview, but he wasn''t believed.


    ¡°Truanna Sky''s communications are monitored,¡± Par Com Sar told him. ¡°We know you agreed to consult for her expedition here on this planet. She is operating as an agent of the Luna family of the Congress of Andor. Ergo, Professor Cu, you are in league with them.¡±


    ¡°If you''ve been monitoring her communications then you know that my relationship with Truanna is of a personal nature. I was a friend and colleague of her mother''s,¡± Sinsin said patiently. ¡°Nothing more. You should also know what I told her in regards to consultation. I''m not an expert on Ancient technology, nor this planet. I agreed to come here only because she insisted that I have an obligation.¡±


    ¡°What''s the nature of the obligation?¡± Flea wanted to know. He had greeted Sinsin cordially upon his arrival, made enthusiastic offers of coffee and other refreshments, but had promptly abandoned his guest to Par Com Sar''s interrogation. He had sat impassively at his desk, and quietly made love to a cigar until his curiosity became piqued.


    ¡°Her mother saved my life once.¡±Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    ¡°How?¡±


    ¡°She intervened with the Truth of Light on my behalf. They were going to execute me for sacrilege. On a dig on Hadrian''s World, I came across an Ancient artifact, purely on accident while excavating a New Dawn site, and they took exception.¡±


    ¡°Because you didn''t turn it over?¡± Flea asked, his eyes twinkling.


    ¡°I did,¡± Sinsin replied, surprising his listeners. ¡°That was when they arrested me.¡±


    ¡°Fanatics,¡± Flea said, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. ¡°And your friend? This agent''s mother: where does she fit into all this?¡±


    ¡°She was murdered,¡± Sinsin said flatly, with a pointed look at Par Com Sar. ¡°Somebody broke into her office, killed her and stole her research data.¡±


    ¡°What was she researching?¡±


    ¡°She was a tech hunter,¡± Sar answered. ¡°Like Sinsin here, she disguised her illicit pursuits under a cloak of academia, but she was in fact, a tech hunter.¡±


    ¡°So is Evolution,¡± Sinsin replied. ¡°So is the Congress of Andor and every other major power in the galaxy. You tiptoe around the Truth of Light and Combine laws the same as any tech hunter, only when you fight over the riches of the Ancients, it''s war. Dana Sky was only ever interested in knowledge and understanding. She never hurt anyone.¡±


    ¡°You have Evolution''s condolences for your loss,¡± Sar replied, and Flea choked on his cigar.


    ¡°Am I to understand that you''re expressing regret for killing her?¡± Sinsin asked slowly.


    ¡°We didn''t kill her.¡±


    ¡°So it''s just a coincidence that you''re here and that you''re monitoring her daughter''s private messages.¡±


    ¡°Not at all,¡± Sar said lightly. ¡°Contrary to her daughter''s current allegiances, Dana Sky worked for us. Evolution sponsored her research and in return, she turned over materials of interest.¡±


    ¡°I don''t believe you,¡± Sinsin said, stunned.


    ¡°Nevertheless,¡± Sar said complacently. ¡°It''s true. You can be sure of it, because if we had stolen her research data, we would already have found what we''re looking for. Unfortunately, we only have her preliminary report to go on. Of course, if we had your expertise, things might be different.¡±


    Sinsin was stunned again. ¡°I''m not interested in Evolving Par Com Sar,¡± he said slowly.


    ¡°We had in mind something a little less extreme: a similar arrangement to the one we had with your friend. I would like to offer you a sponsorship. Think of it! The resources of Evolution are not inconsiderable. We could achieve so much together, and not just on Ar Suft. There is an entire galaxy of worlds out there awaiting your discovery. And who knows? Perhaps in twenty or thirty years, when you feel your mortality a little more keenly, your mind may welcome the opportunity to shed its body and continue its noble pursuits unfettered. Indefinitely. It''s not immortality that Evolution offers, but something very close to it.¡±


    ¡°By sponsor, you mean...¡±


    ¡°Credits, as much money as you could need, transportation, security, tools, labor -a whole legion of drones if you want them. Imagine going back to Tarkis Tarkin and not needing a pressure suit Professor. Imagine if you could telecast directly into a machine and work the ocean floor for hours, or even days on end!¡±


    Sinsin felt a tug of temptation. How could he not? He was being offered what he had always wanted and more: limitless resources with which to pursue his passion for knowledge and discovery. Even the idea of shedding his body wasn''t nearly so revolting to him as it might have been, once upon a time. He was already old: already feeling his mortality, and he saw the practical benefits to exchanging tiring, faulty flesh for durable, precision machine. Besides, who wouldn''t want to live forever -especially if he could spend eternity doing what he most wanted to do?


    His temptation was brief however. Sinsin knew too much about Evolution to take it at its word. It wasn''t above telling lies or making false promises to get what it wanted.


    ¡°What is it you''re looking for?¡±


    ¡°If you agree to help us, we''ll turn over every scrap of data we have.¡±


    ¡°Of course you would,¡± Sinsin said impatiently. ¡°You would have to if I was to be any use to you. That''s besides the point. I''m asking you what it is you''re even looking for.¡±


    ¡°First things first Professor.¡±


    ¡°It''s something I would have to consider,¡± Sinsin said after much mandible and antennae gyrations.


    ¡°Of course,¡± Sar said congenially. ¡°But consider quickly Professor. Time is pressing. As a show of good faith, we''ve added an exception to local hub access for your device. Please feel free to use it to contact us at any time.


    ¡°Now then, I believe General Flea wished to go over the matter of your immigration?¡±


    Flea snuffed his cigar as he stood. ¡°Let me bring you to my adjunct, if you don''t mind. I set him to the paperwork yesterday.¡±


    ¡°You have the tiger by its tail,¡± Sinsin remarked, once they had left the Prefect''s office.


    Flea laughed. ¡°A charming expression! Did they ever exist do you think? Have you seen one in your travels, or found their remains perhaps?¡±


    ¡°Unfortunately not. I suspect they''re a creature of myth and legend, like bears and dragons.¡±


    ¡°What a pity,¡± Flea sighed. ¡°I had a miniature tiger as a little boy: an Old Empire animatoy of fur and synthetic flesh. I firmly believed was alive for years. Even after my father caught me talking to it and smashed it to pieces I harbored doubts.


    ¡°Ah, Paulie! Paulie, Paulie, Paulie, my friend. Did you finish up that paperwork I set you to do?¡±


    Flea addressed this last to an enormously fat and simple man, seated behind an ornate wooden desk. The adjunct smiled and blushed as if he had just been complimented on his looks, and assured the Prefect that he had done as he had been asked. Only, he hadn''t. The documents were incomplete and ridden with errors. It would have to be redone.


    ¡°I''m sorry General,¡± the man said miserably. ¡°I''ll fix it.¡±


    ¡°Get Samantha to help you Paulie. I''m sorry Professor,¡± Flea said happily. ¡°Come with me, there''s a spot just over here where we can sit and have coffee while we wait.¡±


    Flea took Sinsin to a small room, featuring comfortable couches and chairs, some decorative flora and a little kitchenette. ¡°You can relax here and speak freely. Evolution hasn''t bugged this room.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡± Sinsin said, distracted. There was an odor in the room: something very much like geel danger scent. The smell was off. There was a taint of artificial, chemical odor, as if the pheromone had been synthesized and placed in a cleaning bottle, which they then used to spray the counter top. No, it wasn''t the counter itself, but a data slate resting upon it. Sinsin casually woke the slate from its power saving mode and read the opening lines of a militia memorandum on Evolution surveillance in the building: reminding all staff to avoid making inflammatory remarks out of consideration for Ar Suft''s cyborg ''guests.''


    Flea busied himself with the coffee pot: a traditional percolator of geel design and manufacture. It had been appropriated specifically for this meeting, and he hadn''t had the time to learn its use; he was floundering. Sinsin nudged him aside and took over the brewing. ¡°I take it you have a proposal of your own for me.¡±


    ¡°You see right through me Professor! Yes, though it''s more or less the same proposal. I want you to agree to work for Evolution, by way of doing me a favor.¡±


    ¡°So your grip on the tail is slipping.¡±


    ¡°Not quite yet, but I can only demand so many concessions before the math gets imbalanced, and Evolution decides that genocide and scorched earth is more efficient than tiptoeing around the bothersome little people.¡±


    ¡°You have a good understanding of Evolution I find.¡±


    ¡°Have the Andorrans tried to contact you?¡± Flea asked abruptly.


    ¡°No,¡± Sinsin said firmly. ¡°So the rumors are true? They landed troops on the planet?¡±


    ¡°A single shuttle made it to the surface. They can''t amount to much of a force, but they upset the balance of risks wonderfully. Especially after last night.


    ¡°They killed an observer outside your building,¡± Flea explained.


    Sinsin''s antennae and mandibles gyrated furiously. ¡°I had no idea.¡±


    ¡°When they do contact you, I hope you''ll report it to me immediately. If you don''t, I fear for the consequences for my city and my people.¡±


    More gyrations. ¡°I have no loyalties to the Andorrans,¡± Sinsin said eventually. ¡°But I hardly wish to be the cause of their destruction any more than the people of Goodenough.¡±


    ¡°To be clear Professor, I''m not asking you to turn them over to Evolution, but to come to me. Though they are foreign agents operating on Ar Suft, without the permission of its government, there is no state of war between the House of Monet and the Congress of Andor. I assure you, I have no interest in instigating such a war either. If they can be convinced to surrender peacefully, I would merely hold them in custody. That would satisfy Evolution as well.¡±


    ¡°That''s all?¡±


    ¡°Well, I might be inclined to hold them as hostages, and use them extort the Congress for certain concessions, once Evolution has moved on,¡± Flea admitted. ¡°But I give you my word, I would not kill or mistreat them.¡±


    Flea smiled complacently, and was content to loiter passively as Sinsin considered what to do. The coffee maker whistled, and he served it. The silence continued until he sipped his brew, and he sighed rapturously. ¡°May I offer you a cigar?¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    Flea''s eyes hardly bulged, and he stared only a little at the way Sinsin bit the cigar and chewed it distractedly, like an appetizer.


    ¡°You may tell Evolution that I''ve yielded to your arguments,¡± Sinsin said eventually. ¡°I''ll need some time to sort out the matter of the Andorrans however. I can''t be seen to be under Evolution''s protection or surveillance for the time being, but perhaps having a member of the militia at my side would provide it with a sense of security and oversight.¡±


    ¡°What an inspired notion!¡± Flea gushed enthusiastically. ¡°Dallas would be perfect I think.¡±


    ¡°Dallas? The young man who picked me up from the star port?¡±


    ¡°The very same. He holds an ensign''s commission with the militia. I didn''t send him to spy on you!¡± Flea said quickly, seeing Sinsin''s shock and distress. ¡°It''s just a happy coincidence.¡±


    ¡°Isn''t he rather young for this kind of responsibility?¡±


    ¡°Not at all. He''s quite dependable. He wouldn''t have a commission otherwise.¡±


    ¡°I''m not really in the militia,¡± Dallas said modestly, in the highrise penthouse once more. He had accepted the data slate bearing his orders from General Flea with some bewilderment. ¡°Well, everybody is these days, more or less. But I mean, I''m just a reserve pilot for the transport squadron. I don''t really do anything. I''m just a name on a list. If too many active duty pilots get sick or hurt, they''ll have me fly a bus for a while. I''m not a soldier or anything.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± Sinsin said, thinking hard. What was General Flea trying to tell him with this choice? Certainly, it meant that he didn''t take the need for oversight very seriously. Dallas was a child. He was old enough to fight and die in a war of course, as children do, but this wasn''t the kind of responsibility you entrusted to the young, no matter how reliable. It required a certain kind of wisdom that only came from experience. ¡°May I see your orders?¡±


    ¡°I... think so,¡± Dallas said, glancing at the data slate. ¡°It doesn''t say anything about them being confidential.¡±


    ¡°Interesting,¡± he muttered. The data slate more or less ordered Dallas to be his chauffeur and guide, and to report on Sinsin''s activities. General Flea was rather unspecific about how often the reporting should be done, the exact form it should take, or even to whom Dallas would be reporting exactly.


    ¡°Do you know the Prefect well Dallas?¡± Sinsin asked.


    ¡°Oh no. Not really.¡±


    ¡°But he seems to be on intimate terms with your family.¡±


    ¡°I suppose,¡± Dallas admitted, oh-so cautiously, with a glance at the door, to confirm that Aunt Kay''s dust coat and head scarf hadn''t suddenly reappeared on their peg. ¡°He would say we''re friends, and he would mean it, but I can''t really say that I know him. It''s not like he confides in me or anything.¡±


    Sinsin frowned. ¡°Is he a man of his word, do you think?¡±


    ¡°Oh sure!¡± Dallas said enthusiastically: boyishly -so much so that Sinsin was skeptical. Dallas saw it. He smiled in a patronizing kind of way. ¡°He''s what we call a gentleman around here. His family is of a Lesser Line of Monet. I''m not saying he''s honest or even good, but he would never break his word. Are you... are you sure he actually gave it?¡±


    Sinsin''s mandibles gyrated thoughtfully. ¡°I think I understand you. Yes. Yes, he gave his word. This is good. Very promising.¡±


    ¡°What is?¡±


    ¡°What do you say to going for a ride Dallas? I''d like to go by the star port. There''s somebody there I would like to see.¡±


    ¡°Sure! Aunt Kay is going to be so pissed when she gets back,¡± he said with a laugh. ¡°I still haven''t fixed those condensers.¡±


    ¡°Never mind. I''ll help you with them later. To the star port please!¡±